


House Rules

by Slytherin_To_Insanity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Good Slytherins, Original Character(s), POV Minor Character, Slytherin Definition fic, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Slytherins are awesome, Some Tom Riddle backstory, mentions of psychological manipulation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6936658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherin_To_Insanity/pseuds/Slytherin_To_Insanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow members of the Slytherin House throughout the years as they fight prejudice from other houses in Hogwarts, injustice, bullying, and Dark Lords.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cradle to Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Life in the big city.

Tom Riddle was never one for feasts, if only because he’d never experienced them before. The large mass of people- no, _wizards_ \- was astounding, each grabbing for drumsticks, potatoes, spinach, even haggis! The newly-Sorted Slytherin was taken aback by the people, who paid him no mind in favor of the admittedly delicious spread before them on the green-clad table.

Tom quite liked it, as it was something like how he’d envisioned London to be- rich, full of laughter and shiny baubles, and suffused with warm light. So unlike the Orphanage he grew up in, with only dreary grey walls and moldy cots; the furthest thing possible from luxury, and he despised it.

A shudder ran through him before being harshly suppressed. It wouldn’t do to show weakness in front of others, even if they were wizards and not _Muggles._ The word itself left a bad taste in his mouth, but not even the thought of Muggles would dampen his mood tonight!

Steeling himself, Tom dug into his pile of chicken, roast beef and cabbage, downing his pumpkin juice easily, as though he had been drinking it his whole life. “Hungry, are you?” A blond-haired boy smirked to his left.

“The food’s much better than where I come from,” answered Tom politely while forking another bite of beef.

“Where’s that?” A girl further down the table asked. Tom swallowed his food, trying to buy time while he thought up an answer.

“I live with my grandparents. Both my parents are dead.” Tom said, not technically lying. No need to tell them about his unfortunate situation. “We live out in the countryside, and they’re very reclusive, and don’t make very good food.” This caused a light chuckle from most of the students around him, and they promptly dropped the subject, chattering to each other about the various classes, with older students moaning about ‘OWLs’ and ‘NEWTs’, whatever those were.

Too soon, the Slytherin prefects hollered at the students to follow them down to the dormitory. The fifth-year prefects led the first-years, Tom included, making sure no one got left behind as the group headed into the dungeons. The hallways were drafty, and Tom discreetly cast a warming charm on his clothes (he’d practiced the wand movement at the Orphanage). Not too long after they stopped before a large set of wooden doors, with silver snakes entwined around the two knobs, locking them in place.

“ _Merum._ ” Intoned a male prefect as he placed a hand on the largest snakehead and _stroked_ it. Tom watched, fascinated as the tangle of snakes moved away from the knobs, allowing the doors to be opened easily. They hissed as the Slytherins walked by, though not in a hostile manner. Their emerald eyes glowed, and Tom could have sworn he heard them hiss, “ _The Heir hassss returned!_ ” as he passed, but he chalked it up to his own exhaustion. The two seventh-year prefects stood in the middle of the Common Room as the rest gathered around.

“Alright, second-years and up, you are dismissed! Welcome back to Hogwarts, everyone!” There was scattered clapping and a cheer as the students trudged up the stairs into their respective dorms. “First-years, welcome to Hogwarts!” Said the male prefect. “My name is Marvolo Prince, and this is Gemma Terra. If you have any questions throughout the year, talk to either us or Professor Slughorn.” He gestured for Gemma to take the stage.

“Tonight, make sure to get a good night’s rest; tomorrow, you will get out of bed by seven for breakfast, then meet back here in the Common Room for orientation at eight. Directions to the Great Hall are on the Board-” Here she pointed to a rather large glass board, with pieces of parchment magically stuck to it. “-And if you need further help, ask a prefect. Did all of you see how to get into the dorms?”

All fifteen first-years nodded, wanting to impress the prefects. “Good.” Marvolo remarked. “I suggest you spend some time getting to know your dorm mates; you’ll be spending the next seven years together!”

Gemma swatted him lightly on the arm. “Girls dorms are first on the left, boys first on the right. Each dorm has a bathroom you can use, and all of your trunks should be at the foot of your assigned bed. Don’t stay up too late!” She ordered, and they all nodded quickly, moving to their own dorms, eager for a bit of rest.

As the seven boys settled into their beds, Tom tuned out the other boys as he shucked off his boots and socks, grateful for the way the bed sank with his weight, cushioning him but still hard enough to not feel like drowning.

The blond from before laughed obnoxiously at something. Tom gritted his teeth, but put on his best smile anyway. No harm in introducing himself. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Tom Riddle.” He said to the blond, holding out his hand.

The blond gave a little sneer, but shook his hand anyway. “Malfoy. Abraxas Malfoy.” Abraxas shrugged his black robes off and undid his tie, now green and silver. “Riddle. That’s not a pureblood name.” It wasn’t a question.

“Leave it alone, Brax, it’s barely the first day of school!” A dark-skinned boy drawled to Tom’s right, half-sprawled on his sheets already.

Abraxas scowled, but turned away, busying himself with unpacking. Tom turned to the other boy. “I can defend myself, you know.”

The boy grinned. “Oh, I’m sure you can, but riling Brax up is much more fun.” He offered Tom his hand. “The name’s Zabini. Alaric Zabini.” He puffed himself up in a crude imitation of Abraxas, who threw a pillow at Alaric. Tom smiled. “Just call me Ric, and feel free to call him Brax.” This earned both of them another scowl from 'Brax'.

“Riddle, do _not_ feel free to call me Brax.” Abraxas ordered, though he sounded more petulant than anything. The other boys laughed along with Alaric, and introduced themselves as Alphard Black (a boisterous “How do you do?”), Gordon Yaxley (a quiet grunt), Charles Nott (“Hi.”), and William Rosier (a smile and a handshake).

Tom took another look around the boy’s dorm. He’d been too busy to fully take in the emerald green bed sheets and drapery, or the oddly comforting grey stone walls. The beds were arranged in a semi-circle, surrounding a serene little fountain with water pouring out of a coiled snake’s mouth, bubbling up every now and then. Small orbs of warm yellow light floated gently by the ceiling which, like the one in the Great Hall, had been enchanted to reflect the night sky. Above the door to the Common Room was the Slytherin Crest, as if to remind them exactly whose House they were in. It was far better than the Orphanage Tom loathed, and he puffed up his pillow with great satisfaction.

Tom checked his pocket watch (a pricey investment, but a worthy one in his opinion) and, upon seeing that it was nearly midnight, announced his plans to sleep. Alaric and Alphard agreed with him heartily, all of them ignoring Abraxas’s disdainful sniff. One by one the orbs went out, with only the soothing light from the stars shining. Tom smiled to himself, and drifted into sleep.


	2. 'Skinny' Dipping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The numbness of diving into the ocean.

“Come on, Draco!” Pansy laughed, waving at him while she danced along the edge of the Lake in nothing but a swimsuit. “Come into the water!” The last part was lost as she was pulled in by Crabbe with a shriek.

Draco shook his head at their antics from his place closer to the grass. He had far too much weighing on him to go swimming, no matter how fun that sounded. With the simultaneous stress of upcoming NEWTs and his mission from the Dark Lord, Draco hadn’t had a lot of time to himself. His housemates knew it too, knew that something was off this year. There was a tension in Hogwarts: more Slytherins had been tripped or hexed in the hallways by Gryffindors, and even a handful of teachers had started taking off points for no reason at all. Slughorn, Snape, and miraculously McGonagall were among the few that remained unbiased.

Then, there was the issue of his Mark. Draco shuddered simply from thinking about it, and could not stop himself from checking that it was still glamoured. His relief at seeing only pale white skin was short-lived, however; Blaise, the dratted prat, saw the opportunity to pick him up and shove him into the Lake, clothes and all. Draco yelped at the freezing November waters, glaring without any real heat at the laughing Slytherins while he pushed hair away from his face. Traitors, the lot of them!

He had to admit, it was nice in the water, even if his legs were starting to go numb from the cold. Quickly he took off his shirt and trousers, glad that he’d left his wand in his robes under a tree like the others, until he was only in his boxers. Years of living with other people had caused a severe lack of modesty among the Slytherin sixth-years, though Draco really would have preferred to not see Goyle in those bright green boxers.

“You’re so skinny!” Daphne laughed, splashing him with water. He cast a nonverbal spell, dousing her whole head with water, and she shrieked with laughter. Draco smirked, ignoring the concern laced behind her words.

“You could say I’m…” He paused for dramatic effect. “…Skinny dipping!”

As the Slytherins whiled away the afternoon with games, Draco finally allowed himself to forget the Dark Lord, forget all his worries, _forget the death threats,_ and let go.


	3. Yule Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Blood-red lipstick.

It was the day of the Yule Ball, and all of Hogwarts was in a tizzy, with desperate boys trying to find last minute dates and frantic girls getting ready for the big dance.

“Tracy!” Daphne Greengrass yelled from the fourth-year girls’ bathroom. Tracy Davis dutifully hurried over, clad only in a shirt and underwear. “Does this lipstick match my dress?”

Tracy glanced at the light-blue dress laid out on Daphne’s bed, then back to the bright red lipstick her friend was currently sporting. “No.” She said bluntly, watching as Daphne’s face fell. “Here, try the coral one.”

Daphne instantly brightened. “Thanks, Tracy!” While she wiped her lipstick off, Tracy started getting ready herself. Some foundation, silver eye shadow, winged eyeliner and mascara later, Tracy already felt exhausted from the amount of work she had to go through. It just wasn’t worth it on a daily basis, but the Yule Ball was special. She poured some of Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion onto her hands, running them through her brown hair to make it easier to style. The potion instantly made her hair silky and shiny, free of any tangles whatsoever.

Muttering a spell, Tracy used her wand to curl her hair into soft waves, arranging them artfully around her shoulders. “Pansy, can you help me with my hair?” She shouted across the large bathroom. While Tracy could curl and straighten her hair like no one else, she needed something more special for tonight- braids.

“Of course!” Pansy replied, smacking her lips as she finished applying her own lipstick. She ran over to Tracy; with only a few hours left, they had to work quickly. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Tracy shook her head. “Just something that can keep the hair out of my face while I dance would be nice.”

Pansy nodded, a smile creeping onto her pink lips. “I have the perfect hairdo in mind!”

Five minutes later Tracy was admiring the two waterfall braids that ran from the side of her head down into one braid, leaving most of her hair down by her shoulders. “Thanks Pansy, this looks amazing!”

Pansy blushed from the praise but accepted it graciously, and began work on her own black hair.

Finally done with makeup, Tracy slipped into her sparkly silver gown. It was cinched at the waist with a modern corset and then flowed out, accentuating her slender physique. As she stepped into silver pumps and adjusted her jewelry, Tracy couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. But what was it?

With just an hour left before the Ball, Tracy started to panic. “Daphne!” She cried, stopping the girl just as she was about to walk out of the dorms. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

It only took Daphne a moment to figure it out. “Lipstick!” She rooted through Tracy’s makeup bag and unearthed a tube of blood-red lipstick with a triumphant cry. “Here, try this one.” Tracy looked at her gratefully, and they shared a smile.

She sat down by the large mirrors at the sink, and, after lining her lips, swiped on the rouge lipstick. There was something calming about putting on lipstick, Tracy thought, watching as her entire look transformed with the pop of color. As she headed up the stairs with her dorm mates, Tracy couldn’t help but think that there really was nothing better than blood-red lipstick.


	4. The Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Black lace.

Bellatrix Black did her best to not thunk her head against the table. Her mother would surely kill her for interrupting The Dinner, with all the Eligible Slytherin/Ravenclaw Pureblood Bachelors, AKA The Most Boring Thing Ever. Bellatrix hated all of them except for maybe Lucius, who was only here because of Narcissa. And okay, maybe Rodolphus was kinda cute, but no matter what Bellatrix did not want to marry any of these people. She was only sixteen; still young enough to do whatever she wanted, right?

She glanced to her right, where her cousin Regulus Black sat, looking just as bored as she felt, only he made no attempt to hide it. A bit further down was Sirius Black, Regulus’s older brother. He was only a year younger than Bellatrix was, but he behaved with the maturity of two-year old Mudblood.

Rodolphus smiled at her across the table, trying to catch her eye. Him she was actually friends with, in an appropriate and polite fashion as befitting two young Purebloods. It was infuriating to have to always be mindful of herself, Bellatrix thought. The young Black itched to escape the monotony of social affairs; nothing pleased her better than being outside, running through the Forbidden Forest or riding her horse Laimon. Bellatrix pulled at the sleeves of her dress, wanting nothing more than to rip off the black lace and pull on her riding clothes.

Finally, the dreadful dinner was over. All but the Lestranges had left, and so Bella slipped out to the stables behind their manor. With expert speed she saddled Laimon, who nickered quietly at her as if sensing her restlessness. She glanced up at the full moon and smiled to herself. “Hyah!” She commanded, and Laimon galloped off to the woods behind their manor. The woods were perfectly safe thanks to the wards her father had put up to keep out unsavory creatures.

Bellatrix let Laimon take her where he pleased, allowing herself to enjoy the ride until she heard hoof beats behind her. Bella rolled her eyes and reluctantly pulled on the reins, signaling for Laimon to slow down. Turning him around, Bellatrix was not surprised to see Rodolphus on one of the other horses, pink-cheeked from chasing her.

“That’s a fine specimen you have there!” He exclaimed, dismounting his horse to gently pet hers. “What’s his name?”

“Laimon.” Bellatrix said shortly, disappointed to have been interrupted. Absentmindedly she brushed off stray twigs from her dress. Blasted lace!

“Laimon? Sounds like a cross between ‘lemon’ and ‘lime’.” Rodolphus laughed, further incensing Bellatrix.

“I’ll have you know Laimon is the best horse in England!” She defended hotly, and urged Laimon back into his gallop, with which he was only too happy to comply.

“Wait, Bella!” She heard him yell after her, but it was too late. No one would tie her down; if the Lestranges really were negotiating a marriage for her and Rodolphus like she suspected, she couldn’t fight it; but she most certainly would teach him that she was to be respected. She would be married, but never caged. After all, freedom was simply a state of mind. Bellatrix Black swore to herself to never let a man tie her down as a dull housewife, not even if he promised her the universe in return.


	5. Midnight Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A half-moon at midnight.

Tom couldn’t sleep. It’s been a while since he first arrived at Hogwarts, but it doesn’t feel any less daunting. Perhaps it’s also excitement that makes him an insomniac, the thought of so much to explore now that he’s got magic. There’s freedom for once in his life.

There’s no use lying in the dark, even though his bed is soft and warm while ice covers the Lake. Just thinking about magic makes his heart race like never before, and Tom felt it surge until it’s thrumming just under his skin, begging to create. The Slytherin threw off his blankets and laced up his boots, murmuring a spell to make them quiet. He knew it was long past curfew; a quick glance at his pocket watch told him it’s almost midnight.

The one thing he missed about the Orphanage was the view from his window- the constellations of Draco and Sirius and Perseus he used to be able to see, now replaced by the oddly comforting Lake and the various creatures within its depths. He’d been shocked by a mermaid swimming by just yesterday, and had been teased relentlessly by Abraxas all day.

Tom stepped gracefully out of the doorway, and entered the cold Dungeons of Hogwarts. It’s a labyrinth of dark and cold stone to all but the Slytherins, who know to follow the _right_ walls, not the left. Tom hurriedly cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, just in case any prefects were out patrolling by the Dungeons. Not for the first time he wished he’d learnt how to make a copy of the map in the Common Room, as he made yet another wrong turn and got to the Great Hall instead of the Ravenclaw Tower like he wanted. _Oh well_ , Tom thought. _This will work too_.

It was a cloudy night, Tom noted. Few stars were still visible, though the promise of rain had him excited for morning. He lay down before the staff table, reveling in the slight chill carried by the rough stone. Tom was content to simply stay there, watching the soothing movement of the clouds as the harsh winds blew them to and fro.

One cloud was blown just a little too far, and Tom was bathed in the light of the half-moon. It was perfectly split, large and luminous in the night, and the Slytherin closed his eyes, imagining the half-moon energizing him, giving him the strength to succeed . . .

The next morning, Tom woke up to the thundering sounds of feet stomping into the Great Hall, and hastily made his way to the Slytherin Table before Abraxas could catch him and tease him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/89/45/09/894509bf1fad2c7c42bd1e3b3d00522a.jpg.


End file.
